


A small thing, made infinite (∞+∞=∞)

by Alconis



Series: Enumeration [3]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottoms make the best tops, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Original Character(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alconis/pseuds/Alconis
Summary: In thebeforeCharlie would have never asked. It wasn't who he was. But in thisafter... after they'd parted, after years away, after the Red War, and after they'd thought each other dead... asking James for this small thing feels big.





	A small thing, made infinite (∞+∞=∞)

**Author's Note:**

> James Singh belongs to [@yansurnummu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yansurnummu/pseuds/yansurnummu).
> 
> Update 3-2-19: Minor changes to grammar.

When he tells James what he wants, Charlie doesn’t quite understand why his lover looks at him as if he’d grown two heads. He shifts in bed to lay on his side, letting the moonlight from the window illuminate them. Charlie thinks it makes James seem like one of the fair folk of the old country.

James lifts his head from the pillow and turns, hair mussed, and the moonlight makes it look like shimmering strands of obsidian. “Say again; I don’t think I heard you right?”

“I think, I want you to fuck me.” Charlie thinks he might look as if he doesn’t understand the words himself. “I want…”

He stops, and James reaches over and runs a hand through the wild mop of red-orange on Charlie’s head. The titan practically purrs, arching into his lover's touch. He tilts his head to kiss James’s wrist softly, hoping to feel his pulse underneath the tender skin there.

“I, um, I wanna feel you inside me.” He rolls again to rest on his back, tugging James on top. “Oh, you know what I mean,” he says, turning red as his cheeks begin to burn. He hides it by running his hands over the muscles in James’s arms and shoulders and wrapping his large palms over lean biceps. He slides down over the deltoids in James’s shoulder, and when James steadies himself above Charlie, he can feel his trapezius shifting.

Charlie looks at his lover over him, and he hooks a knee at his waist and pulls him down for a kiss. With their bodies against each other, he can feel James’s hardness. His cock is aching, and when they’re perfectly aligned, he thrusts his hips up to explore the luscious friction between them.

“God, I missed this. Missed _you_.” He practically moans the words into James’s mouth, and then the only sound for the next few moments is the wet noise of lips and tongues, and the sharp inhales of breath between them. When they break apart, James is sitting on his lower abdomen, and Charlie raises his knees so James can lean back against them. This position is familiar, and his cock twitches as if the anticipation of feeling James around it was merely a formality.

“But really, Jamie. I want you to fuck me.” When he repeats this, James looks at him a little strangely and then leans over to rest against Charlie, chest to chest, his back arching as he slides over his lover’s body.

“Charles, I’m not complaining, fucking hell. You already look amazing under me when I ride you. But you’ve never wanted that before.” James punctuates this with a kiss against Charlie’s lips, soft and warm. They swiftly turn to hard, heated kisses with roaming hands, warm brown skin against pale and freckled, lean muscle against thick arms and thighs. Between one kiss and the next, James puts a period at the end of his thought with words that sound like, “Not ever.”

And Charlie understands. He understands so much better now than he did before. He's learned he has to speak aloud what he wants, rather than assume. And he's learned that telling someone how you feel is so much better than thinking that they know.

“God, Jamie, I missed you so much. When I thought you were gone,” Charlie says in a rush, and there was a hitch in James’s breath as he continued to nip at Charlie’s jaw. “You know, I thought about a lot of shit. And I realized, I never got to feel you like this, never got to feel anyone like this, and now…” He tilts his head, hoping he could convince the wetness in his eyes to fall backward. “Would you do that for me? Don’t want to miss this chance.”

James cocks his head and then rolls to stand up. He mutters something fond under his breath as he moves around the room, and Charlie's eyes follow his movements carefully. James’s hard cock bobs up and down, thick and perfect, and the light from the window illuminates the powerful lean muscles in his thighs and ass underneath his skin. Charlie has always thought he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, but now… He has to stop and catch his breath, which is hard and rough as if he’d been running.

James finds the drawer where Charlie keeps his lube and rummages for a second, looking for something he is confident he will discover. “Charles, you sneak. I know you’ve got one, where’d you stash it?” James sounds both a little disappointed and a little amused. He huffs with laughter as he starts to push the contents of the drawer around, frustrated. “If we’re going to do this, I wanna stretch you out, make it feel good, but wanna go slow.”

“Um.” Charlie knows what James is looking for, and he blushes deeply. His face is burning hot when he shifts to kneeling, feeling the plug in his ass shift and move. James stops dead when Charlie turns to face away from his lover, and then there is a gasp from the other man of shock and arousal when Charlie bends and presses forward into Uttana Shishosana. He says a silent thank you to the universe that he’d gone through his asanas earlier that afternoon.

“Oh, fucking hell, Charles.” James’s hands are on his ass, thumb pressing gently against the plug, making Charlie moan. “That’s been in this whole time?” His words are breathless as he tugs at the base, and Charlie is glad for puppy pose because if he weren’t already prone, his knees would have given out.

“Jamie, I’m serious. I want you to fuck me.” His words are muffled as he presses his face into the sheets.

“I can see that, Charles.” James’s hands on his ass are gentle, ponderous, as they explore his hips and the curve of his ass in this strange reversal of roles. His palms, rough from centuries of nocking arrows in a bow, touch him softly. When James’s fingers graze that place between his hole and his cock, Charlie yelps, then moans as James strokes small circles over the tender skin.

“Oh fuck, fuck… Jamie, want you,” and when James reaches between his legs to stroke his cock, his request becomes a repeated prayer on his lips. His legs tremble as James tugs again on the plug — it’s not a huge one, but it fills him in a way that makes his cock twitch, and when he’s touching himself, he comes twice as hard. He is unsteady as James fucks him with the plug, tugging on the base, so it comes out to the broadest part, making Charlie gasp, then pressing the plug forward to fill him up again.

“Charles, you look beautiful like this,” James says this like it’s a fact, and Charlie moans deeply as James finally tugs the plug out and leaves him empty and aching. “I’m going to make you feel good, my promise.”

He leans down and presses a kiss against the muscle in Charlie’s hip where his leg and ass meet in a dimple. It makes Charlie thrusts against the sheets, wanting more sensation, but as quickly as James’s lips find his skin, they are gone. Instead, he can hear the shuffle of James behind him. There are familiar sounds, ones Charlie recognizes from when he’s in James’s role. There’s the snap of cap of the bottle, the slick sound of James lubing his fingers, and the shuffle of the sheets when James kneels up on the bed behind him. But this sensation of trust that he’s gained since they’d been here last is new, unrecognizable in himself. He wants to lay himself bare to his lover, wanting to hide nothing. Charlie now knows what it feels like to lose him, and the idea, well… If anything were to happen to him, Charlie wants James to know how much he loves and trusts him… and how he never wanted to hurt him.

The first press of James’s finger inside him is perfect, and the second finger feels even better. He gasps, the feeling of those fingers is unfamiliar, foreign, but it feels right.

“Ok?” James asks him, and Charlie is nodding before the second syllable.

“More please,” and Charlie is answered by the stretch of a third finger. There are a slight burn and a sharpness that is quickly replaced by the gentle, slow shift of James’s hand moving in and out. Charlie finds that two fingers still doesn’t feel like enough; he wants more, and his breath hitches with each thrust. “Jamie, god, _more_ please.”

James puts his other hand on the small of Charlie’s back and moves it in soothing circles, and he thinks absently that this feels beyond the word “good.” Instead, Charlie can only think of sensual or sweet. Each time James hits the apex of his thrust, he twists his fingers and grazes that tantalizing spot, and each time, an incredible, ineffable shot of pleasure spears through Charlie’s body. He can only moan, and pant for more as James’s name repeatedly falls from his lips.

“Patience, Charles,” is all James says, letting his palm drift over his hips and down over his legs. “You don’t want to rush this.” He keeps Charlie like this for an interminable amount of time, letting him feel the sensation of being filled beyond his limits, pulled apart, until he can sense every inch of skin each time James sinks in.

When James pulls his fingers out and steps away, Charlie is left open, and he sobs, the sensation is almost unbearable. But James is there, pulling him backward, holding him against his chest, and running his dry hand over his abdomen. By some miracle, James’s right, still slick with lube, finds his cock and strokes him torturously slowly. 

Almost as an afterthought, he lets his cock line up in the groove of Charlie’s ass. The sensation of just _that_ makes Charlie groan, and then James is whispering in his ear, telling him how good he will feel, how he’ll make sure this is perfect, how he’ll take care of him, kissing his ear, his neck, his shoulder — all while stroking him — and Charlie is basically putty in James’s hands.

Somewhere in the rapid patter of James’s words, Charlie feels the press of the tip of his cock. He sucks in a breath because James is wide, wider than the plug and wider than James's fingers. When the head of his cock pushes through, James stops, letting Charlie adjust to the burn. It’s good, so good, but it feels heavy in his chest as if he couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t hold your breath, love,” James says quietly, pushing forward slightly.

Charlie lets out a shuddering exhale, and suddenly, James is inside him, buried to the hilt. He is shocked into another breath, not knowing what to do with the round feeling of pleasure that mixes with the sharpness of the stretch and ache of the burn.

“Breathe, Charles, just breathe,” James says, remaining still, and Charlie has to fidget and squirm to find the place where the pleasure outweighs the pain. He feels clumsy and ungainly, but when he does discover it, he exhales again.

This time, it is more a sigh of contentment because the feeling is one of completeness, of fullness, and Charlie wants to sink into it forever.

Behind him, James remains at rest; muscles coiled tight as he resists the urge to thrust. The stillness is maddening, and eventually, Charlie becomes impatient. He starts slow, rocking back and forth and becoming used to the slide of James’s cock inside him, inch by inch. Charlie pushes back at the perfect angle to hit his sweet spot and moans and then is fucking himself on more and more of James’s length with each stroke. He can hear James sucking in short breaths as Charlie moves, small, breathy moans at each apex, and he absently realizes the hand at his hip is tense, digging into the skin hard enough to bruise. The fullness feels so right now, and he’s panting James’s name again, but this time, adding, “Please. James, please.”

The words seem to shock his lover into motion as if a rope holding him back had snapped. He shifts forward in a single, sharp thrust, and Charlie finds himself pressed face first into the mattress with strong arms pinning him down. James is restraining his wrists and kissing his shoulders, and those kisses are wet, messy things that are slick and hot against his skin. Charlie would barely name them kisses at all; instead, they are kisses made of teeth and tongue and the slide of lips over muscle.

“Jamie, you feel so good, god. Fuck.” At this angle, James’s thrusts are nothing but shallow, snaps of his hips as he cages Charlie’s body with his own. Charlie is arching his back, his head pushing into James’s shoulder and baring his neck for James to kiss and suck. He wants more, he realizes, not just now, but forever.

This chaotic tangle of their bodies continues until James’s hands slide over Charlie’s back as he leans away, dragging his nails down his skin in hot, burning scratches. Charlie arches into the sting, distracted from the pleasure for a moment until James cants his hips forward to hit the angle that makes Charlie cry out with each stroke. He sees stars when he closes his eyes, and Charlie begins to measure time in thrusts, counting each time he can feel James’s cock fill him. The sound of James’s balls slapping against his thighs is obscene — a lewd, savage metronome that keeps time in moans and sighs, and the rhythm makes Charlie think of a _bodhrán_ , marking the beat of a reel around a fire in an Irish field. He can almost feel the heat, the flame, licking on his back with each thrust, and suddenly his arousal cannot be ignored any longer.

He shifts to his elbows to try and reach his cock, and they tip forward, unsteady without the strong base of his arms. James loses his rhythm for a moment, his motion stuttering and Charlie pauses, afraid to move but desperately wanting to take himself in hand.

Instead, James stops and puts a hand on his back before pulling out, leaving Charlie empty once more. He makes a sound of protest, but James quiets him with a soothing noise and stands back.

“Oh, fuck, you look gorgeous like this.” James’s voice is low and heady, ragged and hot in his ears like the taste of whiskey in his mouth. “Charles, god, let me catch my breath for a second. Want to fuck you proper-like.” When Charlie leans back and looks at his lover, James doesn’t look out of breath so much as he seems lost, dazed, untethered… as if he was an unanchored vessel adrift in the sea.

When James comes back to himself, whatever he’s been holding back has escaped from whatever cage had held it.

“Turn over, love. I want to see you when you come on my cock.” The words come in a rush as James leans forward and presses his body against Charlie’s. Long fingers caress his skin as he grips at Charlie’s waist, pulling and pawing at him so that Charlie is laying on his back. This position is _even better_ because now, he can look up into James’s warm brown eyes and wrap his legs around his waist. A hand on his thigh makes soft circles on his skin, and Charlie honestly doesn’t know if it’s intended to calm him or James. There’s a sigh, from whom Charlie doesn’t know, and then James looks at him softly, blinking slowly, and tiny crow’s feet appear at the corners of his eyes when he smiles. “There, that’s better.”

Charlie’s heart is pounding, and it’s not just because of the breathless mess that James has made him. It’s because of the swell of arousal and emotion that he has when James leans over and kisses him. His lips press beneath his ear, at the hinge of his jaw, and they whisper to Charlie how much James loves him like this, how beautiful he is, how well he’s doing…

And the words fall from Charlie’s lips into James’s ear before he can even think about it. “Love you, Jamie. Want you. Please,” his hand grips at James’s back, clawing stripes of his own down his lover's skin. “Please, fuck me harder.”

There is a breathless pause as James leans back, pulling out and just staring at him. He looks as if the request startles him, and Charlie sees when the light in his eyes changes and his pupils dilate so that they look black.

Charlie wants him so much. “Please, _fuck_ , Jamie. I need you.”

James curses in a foreign tongue, giving his cock a few strokes before lining up with the now-tender ring of muscle and thrusting in quickly. Charlie bucks back, the force making him cry out, but this time without the sharpness, just the slide of James’s thick cock inside him. The noise that bubbles up from Charlie’s chest is like a fizz of electricity, and when James slides inside again, he can push back with the leverage of his legs around James’s waist. The tall hunter falls against his chest and finds his lips in a rough kiss that’s mostly tongue and breath between them.

When they part, James leans back and takes Charlie’s cock in his hand. He strokes Charlie's dick in long, smooth lengths, and Charlie laughs at how maddeningly good it feels. He is babbling again, but this time, his words are a steady beat of praise in a mix of Gaelic and common as James’s hand twists and pulls at his cock, sliding his foreskin in a way that is both gentle _and_ rough, and his hands are so warm and dry — Charlie wants more. He is a beggar, holding a cup out for more, even as it spills over with excess.

He pulls at James with his legs, trying to hit that place of sharp pleasure in time to James’s strokes on his cock. Charlie can sense his orgasm welling in his throat, and it is a dual-edged tide: one current moving down his chest in a slow, trickle and another swelling wave cresting up his balls and through his groin into his abdomen. When those two sensations meet, it feels the same as light welling in his chest, and each time James thrusts, it is as if he is caught in a spinning rift, gentle and warm around him.

He comes with a shout, his cum spilling out over James’s hand in a slow flood. It is different than when he has come inside James before; This is no sudden press of hips and the fierce burst that fills his lover. Instead, this is a tidal wave, a crash of foam on a cliff, a sudden roar that fills his ears as he groans in time to James’s movements. He is buffeted by this onslaught of pleasure, finding himself shocked by how _enormous_ this small feeling is. He closes his eyes as James continues to fuck him, and he can see circles of infinite black behind his eyelids.

With his eyes closed, Charlie feels James tug on his wrists to pull his arms up and over his head. James pins his wrists with one hand, pressing hard on the deceptively fragile bones below his palm and bringing their bodies so close together that Charlie can feel the shift and pull of James’s triceps and obliques against his muscles as they strain from the stretch.

“Fucking hell, Charles, you’re doing so good.” James still moves in that steady, now-familiar beat, and the words from his lips send aftershocks of pleasure through Charlie in time to the stretch and slide of James’s cock inside him. James is fucking him harder and harder as Charlie comes down from his climax. He feels as though he has been wrung out and like everything he ever had or was would seep onto the sheets.

James must sense this, and a gentle tap on his hip guides his legs back so that Charlie thinks James means to bend him in half. He opens his eyes, and James is _right there_ , with dark eyes and his mouth open in a wanton half smile. The joy in his eyes makes Charlie lean up, abdominals exhausted and straining, to kiss him, tugging on his lower lip.

There is the sound of an inhale, and James groans so that it fills Charlie’s mouth behind James’s tongue. When their lips part, James doesn’t move away; Instead, he breathes into space between them, and the air is hot when he exhales. Charlie wants to pull him closer, but James still has him pinned, and then there are words where the air was before.

“Charles, love, didn’t know you’d look so good underneath me.” James has no rhythm any longer, just the steady beat of a storm. “You feel so good, love. Want to cum in you,” and James swears, the syllables stretched out into a moan. James’s balls tighten against his ass, his cock twitches, and pulses, and then Charlie feels the hot warmth of his release paired with the steady groan of James coming inside him.

After a few moments, the room is silent save for the loud, heavy breaths of both men. Both he and James make soothing noises to the other and are kissing whatever skin they can find. Charles’s legs are trembling, James’s legs are trembling, and when they tumble together, it is as if they are collapsing into a pile of limbs, boneless and shaking.

In the after, Charlie feels the sticky mess of where he came cooling on his abdomen, and when James slowly pulls out, Charlie hisses as he’s left empty, save for James’s cum seeping out of him. He feels alive, vibrating and dying and sinking, all at the same time, and he only realizes James had left the bed when he returns to press a cool washcloth on his belly and then leans over to kiss him sweetly.

“Fuck, Charles. You look wrecked,” he says against the corner of his mouth. “Wrecked and absolutely gorgeous.” Long limbs climb astride him, the hunter settling into a position more familiar to them. This position is where they began, with James straddling Charlie at the waist and Charlie’s cock cradled in the cleft of his ass. This existence is what, until just moments ago, was normal. He feels as though his world was tipped upside down.

“Jamie,” is all Charlie can say, as James leans forward to stretch out over his chest. “You are fuckin’ amazing. Dun’ wanna do that with anyone else but you.” He runs a hand through James’s messy curls, which are now sweat-damp and frizzy under his fingers.

James laughs, and it is a small sound made of memories of years and years before. “I think I will have to believe you, Charles.”

Still trembling, Charlie slowly pushes against the bed with his feet, leveraging his weight to roll them over. It is messy and clumsy, instead of steady and swift as it would be before, but eventually, they find another position familiar to them.

Charlie lays on top of James and rests his cheek against James’s chest, and his pale, freckled arms curl over warm, brown shoulders. This simple place is where they began, with James laughing as Charlie’s hair tickled under his beard. But in the here and now, the laugh turns into a sigh as Charlie wraps his arms around him and kisses his skin. Charlie can taste the salt-sweat scent of sex, and he closes his eyes and pulls it around him like a familiar, warm blanket.

“You know, Jamie, I think I know better now.” Charlie feels James’s abdomen tense under his fingers when he tilts up his head to look down at him.

“Do you?” There is hand on Charlie’s hair, smoothing the red strands into a semblance of shape.

“I do.” He kisses the muscles straining underneath where he’d rested his chin, feeling them shake as James continues to stare at him. “Life’s too short to try and pin you down.”

James laughs again, but Charlie can hear the melancholy behind it. “That’s a funny thing to say for someone like us.”

Charlie moves quickly to catch James’s mouth in a kiss, one that starts tender but blossoms into something more. It holds the heat of loss twice over, and the joy of their reunion too. When they part, Charlie stares into his eyes, blue into brown, and then kisses him again. His hands smooth over rapidly cooling skin, and he leans back and tugs a forgotten duvet over their bodies twisted together. “Sorry, Jamie. Could’a sworn I meant to say that we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Better,” is all James says in return.

He’s feeling cocky, now that he’s sleepy and sated. Pushing his luck, he curls up around his lover and breathes words against his neck. “Could even say we got a’nfinite amount of time.”

“Could say that.” James’s hand finds Charlie’s shoulders, and he can feel the gentle touch of his fingers sliding in circles over the broad muscles there. “And right now, I’d rather stay than go.”

Charlie’s eyebrow raises at the seemingly familiar cadence of words and the strange way James spoke them, thinking of other absent friends and almost-lovers. But before he can let his thoughts spiral away, he is drawn down into the darkness of sleep with James’s hand soothing him, softly petting his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me tell you how this happened. Yans sent a message Friday morning to tell me he'd had this idea, and by Saturday night, this was finished.
> 
> So, as always, thank you, friend, for everything.
> 
> Also, a [bodhrán](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bodhr%C3%A1n) is a traditional Irish frame drum, and if you've ever heard any Irish jigs or reels (or even seen Riverdance), you'd probably be familiar with one. A good example, if you're curious, is the drummer Johnny "Ringo" McDonagh, featured [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoeG2-ZKLBQ).


End file.
